


To Have and Have Not

by severinne



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, Prostitution, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-15
Updated: 2009-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severinne/pseuds/severinne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam likes what he sees, but doesn't dare to touch. Gene has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Have and Have Not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Draycevixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draycevixen/gifts).



When Sam had first arrived in 1973, he had – perhaps unsurprisingly – had little time or inclination to contemplate Gene Hunt as a sexual being. Which was not to dismiss his physicality in the slightest, impossible as that was; rather, Sam had been too preoccupied with the finer points of comas and time travel to entertain any manner of fantasizing over the attributes housed within that impenetrable camel-hair armour. In his idle moments, Sam fancied that Hunt’s solidity was all bricks and mortar hidden beneath that coat, like the cobbles of Manchester to which he seemed so intrinsically connected, an abstraction that had crumbled at the sight of Hunt in the briefest of swim trunks: horrid, _orange_ swim trunks that had filled out Sam’s doubts quite thoroughly with visions of surprisingly smooth skin and impossibly long legs.

Sam now felt a pang of nostalgia for those early days of easy ignorance, a wistfulness violently devoured by the roar of blood pounding at the inside of his skull while he watched some over-painted hooker worm her bony hands inside Gene’s coat, simpering up at him with pouting, red-smeared lips. He had hung back at the end of the alley to keep an eye out for the girl’s pimp, _not_ to play look-out while Gene fiddled about with this filthy, no doubt disease-ridden tart of an informant.

The thought was immediately followed by a stab of regret at his rash judgment of this downtrodden prostitute, at the decimation of all his finely tuned, nineties-era sensitivity training. He had clearly been spending too much time with Gene, Sam reasoned sourly. Or not enough time, not the right kind of time if that feeling of base jealousy snarling in his veins was any indication.

His blunt fingernails clawed the bricks at his back as he sulked into the wall, eyes burning into the paired bodies further down the alley. Watching was a poor substitute for the many things he really wanted for himself, but Sam was willing to glean the crumbs of Gene’s burgeoning sexuality wherever they might fall. He nervously moistened his lips and waited, watched the prostitute slide her hands down Gene’s still chest and wondered if the drape of the camel-hair would fall back far enough to allow a glimpse of flesh before things got too heavy to see anything at all, but then Gene shuddered strangely and tugged the edges of his coat close around his broad girth.

‘None of that, love.’ Gene took hold of her bare arms with hands that were uncharacteristically gentle as they guided her back a step. ‘Tell you what, saw a café couple streets over, let’s get a nice cuppa down you and we can have a little chat, how’s that sound?’

He coaxed her down the alleyway and continued to murmur assurances to the gradually crumbling girl though his quiet green eyes were now fixed steadily on Sam, too defiant to be demanding approval though his gaze seemed to ask some sort of question all the same. Unimpressed and disappointed, Sam sneered back and led the way back to the Cortina.

  


* * *

Sam’s foul temper didn’t abate in the slightest when he stomped into CID over two hours later to find the outer office darkened and empty. His angry stride slowed to a stop at the sight of the abandoned desks, a low grunt huffing out of his chest as Gene collided into his back, no doubt too clumsy to stop in time.

‘Told you they would’ve gone home by now.’

‘And I didn’t say you were wrong, so don’t bother getting all smug about it.’ Gene shoved past Sam and continued crossing the hollow room with long steady strides. ‘Besides, didn’t come back here to kick a ball about with the lads. Now that prossie’s given us a name, we’re gonna go through these files again, see if the pervy tosser crops up in any of the old reports.’

Sam opened his mouth to deliver a blistering retort, paused, snapped his jaw shut, considered, then opened his mouth again. ‘Hold on… you brought us back here to do _paperwork_?’

‘Yeah, but no need to get your horn up just yet.’ Gene glanced back, bracing his office door expectantly open as he loosened his tie and fingered a shirt button open. ‘So you coming or what?’

A spark of instinctive lust burst inconveniently through Sam’s chest, cutting his breath and his irritation short before both surged reliably back. He didn’t answer, but rather picked up a stack of folders and dropped sullenly into his chair, behind his own desk. With his head carefully bowed, he flipped the first file open with every appearance of not watching through lowered lashes as Gene heaved a low, rumbling sigh and disappeared behind the swinging door.

He squinted hard through each line of mistyped print on every page, but it wasn’t long before Sam was regretting his stubbornness and fidgeting restlessly in the solitude of the darkened office, the island of his desk lit by a blistering hot lamp that made sweat rise on his upper lip. The breathless polyester of his shirt clung to his back from the exertions of a long day trawling Manchester’s seedier districts, making him desperate for a hot bath or a cold drink, anything but the drudgery of this pointless paperwork under Gene’s implicit gaze. Only Gene hadn’t shifted from his office at all in the past half hour and Sam was fairly certain that every dusty, semi-relevant file Annie had dredged up from Collator’s was out here, sitting on his desk. Curiosity was prickling at his nerves, setting off his inquisitive nature more than this feeble investigative process ever could, and Sam sighed with disappointment as he finally relented, gathering up a few key findings and shuffling apprehensively towards Gene’s door. He had the sickening feeling that this had been his Guv’s plan all along, to draw him in by boredom, though for what purpose…

Sam glanced through the partitioning windows before knocking, and blinked rapidly in disbelief, his hand hovering helplessly in mid-air. He had clearly misinterpreted Gene’s intentions, because there was no way he was meant to be seeing _this_.

Gene wasn’t even pretending to work, had given up his usual desk chair in favour of lounging across his battered red settee, one long leg kicked over an armrest, the other sprawled onto the floor. A cigarette dangled from the fingers keeping a precarious hold on the latest issue of Just Jugs while his other hand palmed idle circles over the considerable bulge tenting his trousers. Sam stared at those long fingers playing over the taut grey fabric, watched them trace the unmistakable shape of his cock then close steadily and _squeeze_ , so very slowly and the clutch of that hand seemed to draw all the blood in Sam’s body away from his brain and into his own stirring groin.

He knew he shouldn’t be watching, knew the smart thing would be to turn away and pretend he had seen nothing, but Sam found it surprisingly easy to quash his morality down – after all, Gene Hunt came out of his mind, Gene Hunt was _his_ and surely he was entitled to watch his own coma fantasies, if nothing else. Sam shifted his stance and the files in his hands, tentatively stroking over his own arousal in careful study of Gene’s more confident ministrations.

Through the window, Sam could see Gene’s chest rise and fall with the depth of his breaths as he groped himself harder, dragging the heel of his hand along the visible length of his cock. Sam allowed himself to increase the pressure of own his hand rubbing through his uncomfortably tight trousers, refusing to unfasten anything until Gene did so first, and surely he must need that release just as much as Sam did if the flush building on his neck was any indication. The fingers of Gene’s other hand tightened around the magazines’ pages, crushing the glossy paper and Sam bit back a moan that died in his throat when Gene suddenly threw the magazine aside with an angry gesture and dropped his head back on the arm of the settee, leaving his arousal and Sam’s bitterly unfulfilled. Gene brushed his fingers thoughtfully over himself one last time before taking a slow drag off his smoldering cigarette, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts unreadable to Sam’s stunned scrutiny.

Stifling down his disappointment, Sam braced himself to turn away and flinched when Gene’s absent gaze dropped down and caught him through the cracked glass of the door. That look said it was far too late to walk away, so Sam did his best to affect disinterest as he pushed the door open and slipped inside. He tried to meet Gene’s eye directly but the way he remained unmoved, recumbent on the settee like some backward parody of a centerfold snapshot made Sam’s skin flush; clearing his throat, he looked instead to the files in his hands.

‘Well, Sammy-boy,’ Gene drawled, ‘what’ve you got for me?’

His tone was so infuriatingly casual, smoky as his cigarette; Sam clenched his jaw and willed his libido to settle _down_ , for christ’s sake. ‘Um...’ He cleared his throat, tried again. ‘Er, I mean, found a few more old cases that match the profile, might be worth following up with the complainants, see if they can ID our john, or…’

‘Or…?’ Involuntarily, Sam glanced up at Gene’s unfinished question, ended up with an eyeful of Gene’s lingering erection instead. _Oh, god._ He nervously bit his lip, repressing a shiver when Gene’s eyes seemed to darken and narrow in on his mouth.

‘Or… nothing. That’s all.’ Because raving on about his DCI being a shameless if unintentional cock-tease probably wasn’t an option. He nearly tripped over his own feet in his rush to Gene’s desk, where he hastily deposited his collected reports and immediately regretted the awkwardness of being empty-handed that soon followed. Nervously drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk, Sam glanced over his shoulder at Gene and cringed to see the amusement now flashing in his eyes, the hint of a smirk twitching on his lips. Sam promptly stopped drumming, clenched his fingers into a fist. _Bastard._

If Gene had actually sniffed out the cause of Sam’s discomfort, that was bad enough. Making a joke of it, however… The rush of anger filling his chest gave Sam the strength to turn away and stride towards the door, though he scarcely felt any satisfaction at seeing the smile melt from Gene’s face.

‘See you tomorrow, then, Guv.’ He resisted slamming the door behind him, if only for the sake of his crumbling dignity.

  


* * *

  
Sam urgently slammed the toilet cubicle door shut and braced his shoulders against its relative stability, sagging in relief at the stall’s privacy while he blindly fumbled with the lock. He felt the reassuring click of the fixture sliding shut and finally, _finally_ allowed his hand to press hard over the desperate heat of his cock surging against tight denim. At that first rough grope, Sam’s head dropped back, an anticipatory sigh rushing past his lips despite the hard knock of his skull against the door.

This investigation was going to be the death of him. Three days of following those shaky leads, three days of furtive watching and yearning while Gene got felt up by four more prostitutes, each more solicitous than the last, but today’s pass through Canal Street and that one especially hard-bodied rent-boy…

Sam bit his lower lip and furiously tore his flies open, drawing in a harsh and grateful breath as his shaking fingers found his overheated cock and fondled it slowly, trying to steady the razor edge of his lust. Seeing Gene on the receiving end of sly feminine hands was one thing, but nothing could have prepared him for the shock of arousal he had felt at watching that boy press up to Gene’s side, canting his hips and asking ‘Daddy’ if there was anything else he could do to help with their investigation. As with the others, Gene had calmly refused, but it was the calm that plagued Sam’s imagination when he had expected disgust or even violent reprisal. It was Gene’s patient, even conciliatory tolerance of the offer that filled him with a wild hope, made Sam wonder what might happen if he were to approach Gene with that same brazen intent.

The scenario took root in his mind’s eye, and Sam purred softly to himself as he began to stroke in earnest, his left hand drifting idly up his stomach and chest, granting an experimental touch to a nipple through his thin shirt before flicking open a few shirt buttons and letting his fingertips graze over bare skin. He imagined doing this under Gene’s watchful gaze, offering his body to those intense green eyes that would devour his skin while a whiskied voice smoothed over him, poured out commands with an obscene tongue, demanding to see _more_...

The gents’ door crashed open and Sam froze, his hand convulsing too tightly around his cock as heavy footfalls stormed past his stall towards the urinals. Cautiously, Sam peered through the gap of the stall door and repressed a curse as he recognized Gene’s tall frame stalling in front of the mirrors over the sink. The brisk clip of his loafers silenced to a standstill, and Sam held his breath, willing his heart to stop pounding so bloody loud in the sudden quiet.

Gene seemed to hunch over in an awkward sort of way, and Sam wondered with a flash of concern whether he was ill or about to heave up, but the moment passed as he straightened, turned, and strode briskly back to the bathroom door. Sam heard the unmistakable snick of the inner bolt clicking shut and bit back a groan, eyes squeezing shut with dread. So much for sneaking out while Gene had his back turned. At the very least he figured he should put his dick away but adrenaline was pumping fierce through his body, making him grow harder in his shaky hand. He opened his eyes and shot a reproving glare downward. Maybe if he let go very slowly...

The sudden slam of a hand against the door shook through Sam’s body, making him jump in alarm. ‘Jesus,’ he yelped.

‘Bloody hell, Tyler, hope that’s not who you’re thinking about when you’ve got your hand on your todger.’

Sam’s head snapped around even though the door still prevented him from seeing Gene and, blissfully, vice versa. ‘How the hell d’you know what I’m doing in here?’ he snapped irritably.

‘You just told me, you daft nancy.’ Gene’s voice was smug. Sam could picture the matching smirk and winced as his fingers tightened around his cock.

‘Piss off.’ He gave himself several short strokes. Out of spite, of course.

‘Come out here and make me,’ Gene taunted. ‘That is, if you really want me to. Only I don’t think you want me to leave at all.’

‘I said, piss off.’ Sam grit his teeth. That low, rumbling voice was getting on his last nerve. He wanted to roll around in the sound of it. For some reason, his hand hadn’t stopped stroking himself.

The door at his back shuddered and creaked, and suddenly that voice was even closer, pouring in through the space above the hinges. ‘You’re still touching yourself, aren’t you, you dirty boy?’

The low, desiring groan left his throat before Sam could stop it. Gene responded with a deep, rumbling purr that practically vibrated the thin door between them and passed through to Sam’s spine, and he knew that he was doomed, that there was no turning back from this point.

‘Is that a yes?’ Gene prompted, playfully but with an edge of seriousness rasping underneath that made Sam think, for a dizzying moment, that succumbing to this might not be the worst thing in this world. He squirmed restlessly against the door, working himself faster.

‘Yes...’ he gasped back, eyes falling shut again. ‘Yes, that’s... fuck, _Gene_...’

‘Yeah, I’m right here, Sammy...’ And with his eyes closed, with all his other senses so sharply attuned, Sam swore he could feel the door rocking slightly, as though Gene were steadily thrusting against the thin barrier between them. ‘Not going anywhere, and neither are you, now I’ve got you right where I want you... c’mon, Sammy, let me hear you...’

A strangled cry escaped Sam’s lips, echoing lewdly off the tiled walls that felt so close, like a narrow cell holding him captive at Gene’s pleasure. The very idea sent an unexpected surge of arousal shooting down Sam’s body; he chased the tremor with his other hand until both were groping and stroking over his cock, messily spreading pre-come down his length. ‘Oh, god... _please_...’

‘That’s it... oh, yeah, you sound so bloody gorgeous like that... fuck, I can hear it, those dirty hands of yours... keep it up, boy, not letting you go until I hear you come...’

‘Yes, yes...’ Sam gasped, pumping faster, his precise pacing fumbling out of control as his breath quickened. ‘Yes... yours, Gene, I’m your...’

He gasped sharply, too close to release for more words, driven on by Gene’s long, heartfelt groan from the other side of the door. ‘ _Yes_... all mine, and you’re gonna prove it, aren’t you, gonna shoot your load for me... make a mess of those perfect little hands and lick it all off, you filthy, naughty boy...’

Sam shouted incoherently as he came, arching away from the door as wave upon wave of raw pleasure cascaded from his body, riding along with Gene’s lascivious endearments pouring into his ear. He wasn’t sure when the flow of dirty suggestions subsided, was only vaguely aware of his sore and sated cock softening in his sticky hand and the sound of gasping, desperate breaths crashing off the walls. He listened more closely, realized that the heavy breathing wasn’t his alone.

‘Move away from the door, Sam,’ Gene growled, his voice tight.

‘What?’ Still dazed, Sam pushed unsteadily upright, trying to figure out the trick of turning in the small cubicle. ‘Um, okay, I-’

The stall door snapped inward before Sam could complete his thought, the lock breaking as Gene surged into the scarce remaining space and crowded Sam up against the tiled wall, seizing his head in both hands as he dragged his face upward into a greedy, sloppy kiss. His tongue was thrusting obscenely into Sam’s mouth at the same relentless pace as Gene’s hips grinding into his own, pinning him in place, and Sam whimpered at the utterly new sensation of another man’s hardness rubbing off against him, the stimulation too much against his own oversensitive cock. His hands scrambled for purchase on Gene’s larger body, uncertain whether he was trying to push Gene away or pull him in tighter, harder, but just as suddenly as it had started Gene broke off the kiss with a harsh gasp, a broken sound that could have been Sam’s name, and a stifling bite to Sam’s neck as his orgasm overtook him, pulsing wet between their bodies.

‘Mmn... Sam...’ Gene sighed the sound against his throat as he quieted down from his release. Definitely his name; Sam felt a delirious, disbelieving grin spread across his face.

‘This is a bit of a surprise,’ he commented wryly, making his delight at said surprise more obvious by wrapping his arms around Gene, tugging their bodies impossibly closer together.

‘Would be to you, oblivious prick that you are.’ Gene snorted softly, lifted his head. ‘Should take away your detective’s badge, you’re that bloody dense.’

Sam made a protesting sound, then stalled as his mind flashed back over the last few days, the countless small displays that had collectively driven him that much further out of his mind. ‘Bastard... you were riling me up on purpose.’

‘Too right I was. Bloody hard work, that, though it was worth it, watching you blush away like a nun at a porno shoot.’ Sam was too stunned to react as Gene bowed his head and brushed an alarmingly gentle kiss over his temple. ‘Was costing me a wedge of dough and all, and the looks on their faces when I had to explain it was just a quick grope for the benefit of my jealous little voyeur of a DI...’

‘Wait...’ Sam blinked, wondering if that orgasm had blown something in his brain, ‘d’you mean... all those prostitutes, they... you paid them...’

‘Well, after I saw how you reacted to that first one...’ A somewhat sheepish look crossed Gene’s face. ‘I mean, no way that many prossies are gonna have a go at an old copper like me, are they?’

Sam frowned at the self-deprecating tone of Gene’s voice. The idea of that rent-boy, of so many women, all throwing themselves at Gene Hunt hadn’t struck him as the slightest bit unexpected. He shook his head, filing his own bias away for later consideration. ‘Went to quite a bit of trouble, didn’t you?’ he ventured, feeling suddenly shy.

‘Bloody hell, Sam, at this rate I was running out of ideas,’ Gene huffed indignantly. ‘Started thinking I’d have to go dipping me manhood in chocolate and slap it onto your desk before you’d think of doing something with it.’

Sam grinned brightly. ‘Think you could still–’

‘No bloody way.’

‘Oh, come on…’

‘Already did, in case you didn’t notice.’

‘Sorry,’ Sam shrugged mildly, ‘may have missed it.’

‘Cheeky bugger.’

‘Guess you’ll just have to show me again, won’t you?’

‘There’s a good lad.’ With a feral smirk, Gene dragged Sam out of the cubicle and towards the sinks, hands tugging at his unfastened clothing. ‘Gonna have to get you cleaned up first though, you dirty boy...’

**Author's Note:**

> This story has yielded a chocolately sequel, [Favours](http://archiveofourown.org/works/157797).


End file.
